


shades of blue

by behestha



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, honestly this is just me self projecting and writing something as therapy, tbh there is barely a plot, this is pretty platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 00:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10685655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behestha/pseuds/behestha
Summary: Eventually, Shiro's scales reach a tipping point.OR the one where Shiro has a panic attack and Lance gently helps him.





	shades of blue

**Author's Note:**

> A little warning again, a majority of this thing is Shiro having a panic attack so beware!
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd so if you see a mistake feel free to point it out!

Sometimes the world all became a little too much to handle.

As leader of Voltron, Shiro couldn’t help but feel like he constantly had the weight of the entire universe resting upon his shoulders. Most of the time he felt like he had the other paladins, Allura, and Coran there beside him, helping him shoulder the burden. 

But not all the time.

Other times were like this. Right now. Where the weight of everything felt like it was crushing him and he would never be able to stand again. He felt small and insignificant, not nearly strong enough for this responsibility. He felt doomed and useless, but above all else was the feeling of insufficiency. There was single stone settled into his stomach that made him feel weasly and pathetic, but this one pebble felt like it weighed a million tonnes and he was sure that with every passing second he was being dragged down further and further. 

There was a distant voice in the back of his head, one softly saying that he was allowing himself to drown in his thoughts, that this feeling had come and passed before as would it this time. A part of him knew that the quiet voice was right, but with the rest of the world screaming at him from all angles, it was hard to listen to it. It was being drowned out by the maelstrom of everything else. 

He couldn’t remember why this was happening. 

How did it get this bad, all at once? 

It seemed as if moments ago he was above the surface breathing perfectly fine, but now he was drowning and choking on bitter saltwater. The world was screaming at him so loudly, water flooding his ears and filling them with a painful cacophony, but at the same time he could hear nothing at all. Everything was so loud it was silent. 

Could it be that he was finally crumbling under the weight of the world?

“Shiro?”

There was a soft voice breaking the ear splitting silence.

“Shiro?”

It was a little louder now. The voice was silvery and feathery. It seemed to ease the brackish ocean that was choking him; the water was becoming less aggressive.

“Shiro?”

Blue. The voice was cutting clearly through his mind now. It reminded him of the colour blue. Not the deep, frightening shades of the ocean that was suffocating him, but the colour of your favourite popsicle when you were a kid. A beautiful, cloudless sky. Wild cornflowers blooming. Someone's eyes.

“Shiro, is it okay if I touch you? Please try and nod your head for me, I know it’s not easy but if you can hear me please try and nod yes or no, okay?”

Distantly, he could feel his head twitch. He hoped he had nodded yes.

“I’m gonna put your hand against my chest, alright? I’m gonna breath in and out nice and deep, can you try and copy it? Try and match my breathing okay?”

He could feel a warm hand encasing his and guiding it against a flat surface. His muscles felt like they were made of lead, but luckily the hand stayed against his and held it against the flat surface. He wasn't sure if he would be able to hold his arm up if it wasn't there.

“In… and out… in… and out....”

He could feel the surface that his hand was pressed to, move. It raised and lowered in time with the in and out’s being said. The surface was a chest, he distantly realized. The softness under his touch was the material of a shirt. The silence was becoming less deafening. The water was calming down.

“Keep going, in… and out…”

The water had become still. He could swim up to the surface again, and when he broke free the screaming quietness broke with it.

“Your breathing is good now, alright? I’m proud of you. Do you think you can open your eyes for me now? Is it okay if I touch your face?”

Shiro nodded once again. His body felt sore and sweaty as if he has just finished running across the entire length of the equator, but he had regained control of his senses now. He could hear the quiet shuffle of the voice moving next to him, readjusting their position. A warm hand was pressed against the side of his face, and he could feel the rough pad of a thumb brush across the the arc of his cheekbone in a soothing repetition. 

“Shiro, do you think you can open your eyes now? I closed the blinds and turned off the lights, don't worry about anything being too harsh okay?”

He nodded again and felt himself swallow. His eyelids were heavy, and difficult to move but he continued to blink lazily until his vision had returned to him properly.  
Lance. The blue voice was Lance. He was momentarily disappointed in himself for not making the connection earlier but the feeling was short lived. He was too tired for any sort of disappointment or hate.

Lance’s face was flushed a light shade of pink, most likely from his own nerves. His eyes however, were shining and smiling down at Shiro in the warmest way possible. In a way only Lance could. 

“Thank you,” his voice felt harsh and croaky from disuse. He suddenly realized his throat felt parched and he desperately ached for water, as he brought his arm up to gently rub at his throat.

“Is it alright if I leave for a second to get you some water?” Lance spoke with a genuineness that was so rare; there was nothing mocking or condescending about his tone. Shiro nodded again and watched him send a soft smile his way before running off to the kitchen.

Shiro was lucky he had Lance. 

Lance came scampering in shortly, with a water bottle and small snack in his hand. Shiro took both of them gratefully from Lance, and once he had downed the entire glass and the snack, he felt substantially better.

“Thanks again,” Shiro repeated, his voice now returned to its normal baritone. 

“You don’t have to thank me, I’m always glad to help. Besides, that was all you. I just helped guide you.” Lance looked up into his eyes and smiled shyly before reaching down and softly squeezing Shiro’s hand in his.

“I’m still thankful though.” Shiro beamed gratefully at him this time, before gently tangling their fingers so they were clasped together. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Slowly, they fell asleep like that, slumped against each other with their tangled hands resting between them.

**Author's Note:**

> On a side note: everyone deals with panic attacks differently. Personally, I (thankfully) do not have them very frequently but when I do, I find touch very grounding, so I modelled this off my own experience!
> 
> Double side-note: if you follow(ed) me on twitter (@N0NBINARYPIDGE) , sorry for deactivating out of no where, but I'll be back. As Shrio says, sometimes the world becomes a little too much to handle. I miss you pals!!


End file.
